Beautiful Dirt
by Angelas
Summary: Brother watches brother. Always watching. Always wanting. But what if watching just isn't enough anymore? ItaSasu ThreeShot


**I have returned into the ItaSasu fandom completely. Yes. My previous, undying love for these two has not yet died. I don't think it ever truly will. xD They're just too perfect!**

**Wanted to play around a little with the wickedness of this relationship. To truly dig into it. I hope you enjoy the product of said 'playing'. o-o**

**I disclaim. If I owned, Masashi would kill me for all I have done to his characters. o; haha~**

**oOo**

The sound of running water echoed from within the bathroom, a hot curtain of steam seeping from the door's rifts.

Large, onyx eyes watched from behind the hallway's wall at the way the smoldering vapor danced and nuzzled with the chilling air of the house. The door was not closed. A small cleft remained as an opening, causing the young boy of seven to stare. To wonder.

What could be behind that steaming schism? Would it be horribly bad if he were to peek inside?

Little hands clenched unto the wall, small fingers shaking lightly from overwhelming curiosity. Sasuke always wondered how Itachi looked like with his hair down. Without the ponytail. Without a shirt. He'd seen his father shirtless, but what he really wanted to see was Itachi shirtless. A childish curiosity. The boys and girls at school always talked about their siblings, bragging endlessly about how strong and muscly their brothers were.

If Sasuke could only but _see_, just a small peek, a _mere __glimpse_, he'd be able to brag, too. He'd be able to explain with extensive detail just how much better, just how much stronger, _his_ aniki was above all of the others. The boys and girls in his class would fall into awe. They would realize just how amazing Itachi was. Just how flawlessly perfect someone could manage to become.

Miniature feet took their first steps, treading silently towards the crook of the door. The steam was now brazing against the soft skin of his face, sending a slithering chill down into a small spine. He couldn't get caught. Itachi would become mad. With a small gulp, Sasuke positioned himself right next to the partially opened door, listening quietly to the running water that echoed from the other side.

A rush of courage, and Sasuke turned towards the crevice, glistening, childish eyes widening at what was then before him. A cape of floral flush spread across his plump, pallid face, a searing tide of astonishment causing him to partially lose his balance. Little hands pressed heavily against the wall, small legs shaking from sheer amazement.

Itachi was, indeed, strong and muscly. He was everything that Sasuke knew his aniki would be and _more_. Cream-colored skin, long, wet strands of dark sienna hair, legs that curved in all the right places, arms that encased solid, toned muscle, all soaked in warm, steaming water. Rivers encased Itachi's perfect figure, coating him in a thin don of sparkling froth. Sasuke's breath hitched, jet-ink eyes watching hungrily at the forbidden sight.

A consuming amount of heat slowly began to envelop the little boy that stood by the partially-opened door. The way his big brother's hands roamed at his sides, his legs, his hair, and his back sent Sasuke into a world of admiration and pride. He couldn't birth it in himself to turn away, to run off into his room completely ashamed. He wanted to watch. He wanted to watch the object of his worship wash himself in all of his nude, naked glory.

Little hands rested lightly on the wall, watching silently with big, charcoal eyes at the way Itachi began to wash at something from in between his thighs. Curious, widened orbs followed his brother's hands, watching rather shyly at the way Itachi began to fumble around with a pair of tanned, rounded sacs. A smooth, effeminate palm then began to give a series of strokes at an odd-looking rod of muscle, inciting small gasps from a pair of drenched, fuchsia lips.

Sasuke's legs shook quietly beneath him, biting gently at his bottom lip. A very foreign feeling began to snake its way through him, slithering right below his stomach, and right into his pelvis. Dark, lithe brows slanted into a stupor of arousal, watching sinfully at the way his brother began to quicken his rhythmic stroking.

Itachi's gasping grew louder by the second, his head shooting back moments after. Sasuke watched intently and almost disbelievingly as a thick, string of milk-like liquid then began to escape sporadically from Itachi's solid rod of pulsing meat. The white juice spiraled and blended with the water into the drain, a scarlet gaze opening slowly towards the shower head.

Without really meaning to, and to his great dismay, Sasuke had shifted his weight a little too much against the door, causing a small crackle of a noise to disrupt the recurring, droning noise of Itachi's running shower. Obsidian eyes widened in great fright, scared beyond anything that he would be caught.

Crimson eyes then shot towards the source, leaning his head to the side to get a better look at what had caused the sudden noise from behind the door.

But there was nothing there.

Itachi reluctantly shrugged off the small noise he very much knew he had heard, returning back to his seething, glamorous shower. Cream hands went about the shampoo, rubbing and draping the thick, lavender liquid into long, mahogany strands hair. Bubbles caked his hands, ensuing a very fascinating sight.

He was _certain_ he'd heard a noise.

Little legs sprinted themselves towards Sasuke's room, a great share of embarrassment shredding him from deep within. What if Itachi had seen him looking? What if Itachi had known it was him?

Aniki would be so angry with him. He'd probably stop playing with him. Saddened and ashamed of his own devious actions, Sasuke sat on the corner of his bed. A plump, childish face rested on small, pinkish knees, sobbing quietly into them. He didn't mean to do that. He didn't mean to have watched Itachi so intensely and inappropriately.

Sasuke very much knew that it was wrong to watch other people shower. He should have known better.

The image of his naked brother, of the way his hands draped and tugged at that strange, tanned pole of muscle haunted Sasuke's innocent mind. Aniki seemed so happy when he did that. Aniki sounded like he was feeling so good when he was gasping for air like that. Aniki seemed so pleased when the white, milky stuff came out.

For a moment, Sasuke ceased in his sobbing. His recurring, shameful thoughts causing a sudden hardening from beneath his pants. Wet, obsidian eyes looked down towards his lap, a small tent protruding from inside.

That was the first time that Sasuke had attempted at the same white, creamy stuff that Itachi had poured inside the shower. But to Sasuke's strife, nothing had spilled out. Pale, plump cheeks lied showered in red, a thin string of sweat dripping from the side of his face.

It had felt so good. It all felt so good with Itachi on his mind.

Sasuke then figured that the mythical, milky stuff was something that only his aniki was capable of.

The days went by normally as if nothing at all had happened that night. Itachi acted like he always did, and Sasuke pined and begged for his attention whenever he was given the chance. The image, however, the haunting, unforgettable image of his big brother in the shower was ever-present and unchanging in Sasuke's virginal mind. From then on, Sasuke found himself watching his aniki shower on a frequent basis.

He tried to stop himself from doing it. He really did. But the door was always partially opened, and the sight was always the same. The same beautiful, overwhelming sight underneath the shower-head. Itachi would make the white juice come out every time, and Sasuke would get to watch it all go down from his secret place behind the slitted door.

Sometimes, Sasuke would do the same thing Itachi did at the same exact time. And sometimes, when Sasuke was lucky, they'd both fall into that small 5-second trance in which their backs arched from a coil that burst and contorted from deep inside.

Several weeks went by with the same recurring event taking place, until one day, Sasuke caught sight of his aniki changing in his room. It was the same thing as before. The door wasn't all the way closed, and Sasuke's curiosity and need to see more of his big brother rose. Sparkling, onyx eyes watched the arousing sight from behind the door. Always sure of making no noise, always shaking in hidden, perplexing excitement.

Always watching quietly.

Little legs trembled, little hands clenched unto the door. Itachi was so pretty. Itachi was so perfect. At school, Sasuke made sure to gush about his big brother. To spread the word of his unmatchable glory, to let it all be known.

Everything. Everything that did not include his secret fascination with watching Itachi from behind the safety of the door.

**oOo**

Sasuke had just turned ten.

His parents had held a small birthday party for him in which almost all of the Uchiha family had attended. Sasuke had noticed that Itachi was beginning to spend more and more time with the blue-skinned boy called Kisame. Envious, Sasuke wasn't very nice to the boy, using every opportunity he had to be rude and very much unkind.

Itachi had sat Sasuke down several times to discuss over the matter, assuring the glowering boy over and over that Sasuke was still the one he loved most. However, the young, jealous Uchiha was not convinced.

Itachi was his. Itachi was only his. His world. His aniki.

Aniki wasn't around as much as before. Often leaving to places that Sasuke wasn't allowed to go. More than likely with Kisame. It was_ always _Kisame.

Intent of ridding the lonely, torturous hours of his big brother's absence away as fast as possible, Sasuke took it into himself to sneak into Itachi's room whenever his parents were in the living-room, completely oblivious to his inappropriate ventures.

Alone, and terribly mournful for the object of his greatest affection, the youngest Uchiha would throw himself dreamily onto Itachi's bed, greedily breathing in the haunting, intoxicating scent of his brother's shampoo that lied permanently dormant in his pillows. He'd scour the furniture for things that he already knew would be there. He'd do this almost everyday. Everything in that deliciously-scented room was learned and memorized by heart.

Even the secret stash that his aniki would keep underneath the bed hadn't gone untouched.

The stash contained a series of many different fascinating things. Most of them being CDs that were labeled 'XXX' among other odd things that a 10 year-old Sasuke was still to fully understand. Among the discs were several piles of magazines and cylinder-shaped objects that looked a lot like toys of some kind.

Sasuke's favorite, however, were the magazines.

A naughty, pornographic mag rested on pale, lithe hands, obsidian eyes staring and studying at the explicit images. Some of the pages were stained with a whitish stain of some kind, blurring some of the 'good' parts. This didn't stop Sasuke from imagining it all in his mind, nonetheless.

Pictures of two men flooded a particular magazine, which was the one that Sasuke's interest flared the most in. This was the initiative source of his new found fantasy. A fantasy in regards to his big brother. A delectable fantasy intent on the possibility that those two men in the pictures could, indeed, be he and Itachi. The thought was highly exhilarating. Electrifying. Completely delicious. _Sexy_.

Sasuke would give mind and spirit for that. Sasuke would _kill_ for the opportunity to have his beloved aniki inside.

Inwardly ashamed of his thoughts and actions, the young Uchiha would keep all of this to himself. He couldn't bare the possibility of Itachi finding out. He couldn't bear the thought of Itachi growing disgusted and disgraced because of him. They were brothers, after all. Sasuke was old enough to know that what he felt was immoral and very much wrong.

A pale, shaky hand flipped slowly through the magazine, using the other to pump rhythmically onto his leaking, pulsing dick. Sasuke had recently learned that he, too, could now ignite that milky, white liquid that he'd thought only Itachi had the ability on making. Obsidian eyes narrowed in subliminal fantasy, staring at the conjunctions on the magazine.

Dirty thoughts plagued at Sasuke's mind. Beautiful dirt. Beautiful possibilities.

The thought of Itachi releasing that white load inside of him was incredibly invigorating. The thought of Itachi spilling his seed on his face was also arousing. The thought of Itachi rubbing his dick between his ass was eliciting. The thought of his brother, of his dearest aniki, on top of him, taking him, tasting him, making him his was oddly immaculate. Perfect. The epitome of divinity. The way things were supposed to be from the very beginning.

A pale hand increased in its movement, pulling violently unto the heated, pulsing flesh that now throbbed and twitched in unbearable, sweetened ache. Thoughts of long, mahogany hair draping over his sweating face, scarlet, geranium eyes staring into his own darkened ones with irrevocable, brotherly love. Cream-colored skin against his own pallid one, wet and showered in a thin cape of glistening froth.

The smell of Itachi's shampoo. Itachi's purple-painted nails digging into him as they fucked. The thoughts. The beautiful, sickening thoughts.

A series of uncontrolled gasps escaped Sasuke's livid throat, watching with half-lidded eyes as his sullied dick seeped over with a clear, sticky liquid. His palm grew lusciously slick, brows and lips twisted into a hellishly sensuous expression that would make any person leak fluids at the mere sight of it.

The white river of gelatinous juice approached and writhed from within him very heavily, causing Sasuke to convulse into a trance of delicious calamity. Thoughts of Itachi. Thoughts of his brother's perfect, cream-colored lips. A final spasm, and Sasuke could only but violently shiver in the crippling orgasm that enveloped his body the same way he wished Itachi, himself, would dress him in.

An avalanche of pearl splattered sporadically from Sasuke's throbbing prick, showering him in his own fluids on the sheets of the bed. The magazine was not spared.

Delirious, narrowed, obsidian eyes watched almost painfully as his dick gave out the last few spurts of cum. When he was finally drained, Sasuke threw his head back unto the bed, exhausted and still very much unappeased. His hand wasn't enough. Mere thoughts were becoming insufficient.

Sasuke needed the real thing. The real deal. He needed Itachi. He ached, yearned, _dreamed_ of finally being in his rightful place. In the only place he was sure he belonged in since the day he had gazed from behind the steaming, slitted door.

This place was beneath Itachi. Below him. Beneath the immaculate perfection of what was his precious aniki. That's where he belonged. Breathing only Itachi's scent. Seeing only him. Being rightfully claimed in every possible way.

Mournful, (and completely hopeless that his deepest, darkest fantasies of which he'd repeatedly begged and pleaded to whatever divinities were out there to finally bless them true), Sasuke clenched angrily unto the sheets of his brother's soft, sweet-smelling bed. No matter how much he dreamed, no matter how much he obsessed, his aniki would never love him the way he truly wanted him to.

It was all so wrong. So dirty. So shameless. So vile, wicked, lewd, and unclean. So_ fucking_ beautiful.

Eternally ashamed of his devious, deplorable actions, Sasuke tucked the magazine away back into its rightful place, coal eyes watering in distress and aggravation. Why did it have to be this way? Why did this have to be so utterly wrong?

A hatred for Kisame and all of Itachi's other friends rose within him. Kisame could quite possibly have Itachi. Kisame could be near Itachi, and it wouldn't be so 'wrong'. Tears formed beneath colorless eyes, quiet, childish whimpering escaping him as Sasuke dug his face into the perfumed pillow beneath his head.

He wanted Itachi so bad. So** fucking** bad.

**oOo**

Sasuke had just hit the big thirteen.

The house was currently empty, courtesy of his parents leaving the state for a very belated honeymoon. They had left him in Itachi's care, but as always, Itachi was hardly ever there. Always with his friends. Always with Kisame or Shisui. One of the two. The youngest Uchiha silently groveled and squirmed in his cesspool of seething jealousy in the safety of his empty room.

He didn't understand why his aniki had been avoiding him so much lately. Each day that went by, the less Itachi would be home. And when he _was_ home, they'd only exchange a meager two or three words. It was almost as if Itachi hated him.

It was almost as if Itachi had somehow..** _found out_.**

This was what Sasuke had been terrified of all along. The lingering, haunting possibility tearing violently in his mind. He couldn't possibly imagine his life without Itachi. He couldn't imagine any of it. His continuing existence, his desire for being alive.. None of it would be possible without his precious, beloved Itachi.

Fears plagued at Sasuke's head, causing him to lock himself in his room on a daily basis. When Itachi came home, he wouldn't talk to him. If it wasn't for Sasuke willing up the courage to greet him at the door, they wouldn't have spoken at all. Sometimes, Itachi wouldn't even look at him.

Sasuke's inner torment reflected with the scars on his pale, whitened arms. Fresh, purple bruises on his knuckles caused from the furious, frustrated blows he'd throw periodically at the wall. It was all so unfair. Why did it have to be this way..?

Sulking wordlessly against the wall next to his bed, Sasuke heard the clanking and clamoring of the front door being opened and locked. Itachi had returned home.

Desperate to see him, desperate to have any sort of contact, Sasuke straightened himself up and made his way reluctantly to the door. His hair was a mess, and he might have looked very much sickly and impaired, but he brushed it all away the moment he caught glimpse of Itachi's long, sienna-colored hair.

Obsidian eyes widened quietly, watching his big brother from a distance with all of his immaculate, incomparable beauty. The strong scent of his leather cologne flooded the guestroom as a lithe, cream-colored hand threw keys on the counter.

White hands clenched quietly unto the wall, heavily intimidated by the commanding presence of his dazzling, older brother. It was hard in itself to will himself to approach him in any way, but Sasuke needed it. _Yearned_ for it. He'd wither away into the nothingness of what would be his breath if he didn't at least come _near _Itachi now and then.

"I know you're there, Otouto," the eldest quietly stated, helping himself to a cup of iced tea, "You were never any good at hiding."

Obsidian eyes widened in shock. What did Itachi mean by that..? Sasuke looked away, now quietly shaking from his sudden tide of relentless worry.

"I'm sorry, nii-san," the youngest whispered almost inaudibly, pale fingers curling unto the wall, "I didn't mean to.. I just wanted to greet y-"

"It's fine," Itachi interrupted, placing the half-emptied cup of tea on the counter, not at the least bothering to look towards his brother's way, "You should go to sleep. It's late."

Dark brows slanted in distress, trying his absolute best not to shrivel into a pathetic mess. Itachi had grown so crude. So coarse. He no longer played with him anymore. Didn't talk to him. Didn't look at him. Almost as if he were ashamed of him. Almost as if.. Itachi didn't love him anymore.

The horrible thoughts tore at Sasuke's mind as he weakly stood next to the wall, not daring to look his brother in the eyes. He could hear Itachi approaching him, his intoxicating, crippling warmth now radiating unto him. A rush of shame and undeniable comfort shredded over Sasuke's being.

"You look troubled, Sasuke," his voice was deep and perfect, the same way it had always been, "You should really go to bed."

Sasuke nodded his head slowly, afraid of anything that could happen next. To both his relief and dismay, Itachi began to walk away, an elegant wave of cologne being left in his wake.

"I will," he said, sealing obsidian eyes in self-contained misery, "Goodnight, Aniki."

There was no reply. Only the loud slamming of a door.

Sasuke's legs weakened beneath him, a single tear attaining release from beneath one of his ink-like eyes. It felt like all hell had frozen over him when Itachi had walked away from him like that. Years ago, Itachi would hold him. Hug him. Kiss his forehead. Poke him. Anything. Itachi would always be there. Itachi would always tell him that he loved him.

But now. Now he didn't do any of that.

Incurably depressed, Sasuke made his way into the desolation of his empty room, passing the hours away just staring at the fascinating ceiling. An eternity passed, and he still couldn't fall asleep. The coldness of Itachi's words pierced and sliced through his senses, leaving him a mass-less, lifeless waste. His love for Itachi flared and remained the absolute same.

Sasuke couldn't bare it.

When the clock hit 3 AM, pale legs made their way towards the hallway, positioning a very insomnia-stricken Sasuke right in front of the door that led into Itachi's room. A shocking, familiar sight welcomed him.

The door. The door was not completely closed.

Disbelieving, curious eyes stared at the slitted entrance. Sasuke could have bet his life and soul that very moment that Itachi had closed that door. Not only closed it, but _slammed_ it certainly closed. A small, haunting string of floral-scented cologne emitted from within the opened rift, causing Sasuke to breathe it in quite greedily.

If he could but just _see_ Itachi. Watch him quietly. Watch him be the immaculate, illogically beautiful being that he so naturally was.. Maybe then Sasuke could fall asleep.

A pallid hand pushed the door open silently, making sure that there was no noise to follow the hazardous action. This was a dangerous approach. He hadn't done this in so long. He'd stopped the moment Sasuke had realized that Itachi didn't want to be around him anymore.

Terrified, but absolutely devoted in seeing his brother at least once that night, Sasuke stepped inside. The room lied dimly lit by the moonlight that transcended from the window, gracing the charming, impeccable features of his sleeping brother almost unrealistically.

How could someone manage to be so _fucking_ perfect? Sasuke did not know.

Entranced and completely overtaken by the soul-consuming sight, Sasuke allowed himself to approach the object of his most intense and darkest desires. Long, thick lashes feathered unto marked cheeks, fuchsia-tinted lips parting ever so slightly; all with the long tresses of bister puce hair framing at a handsome, enamoring face.

Sasuke's breath hitched, obsidian eyes tracing the bare curvatures of Itachi's unclothed chest. He had almost forgotten that Itachi had always slept naked. Sasuke had learned this from long ago. Ever since he was eight. Ever since he began to religiously watch Itachi from behind the door.

The door that always, _**always**__, _lied partially closed.

Overcome by the mere craving of his beloved, most dearest, elder brother, Sasuke reached out for the naked, beige-colored skin; obsidian eyes lidded in a dreamy, subliminal way.

If he could only but just.. capture those lips. If he could but just _brush _against them. His life, his being, would be complete. He would gladly die the next day eternally happy.

The warmth of his brother's skin now rested against his fingers, sending chills of no other kind right down into his spine. Sasuke took in a shaky breath, completely entranced.

Previous, forbidden fantasies brimmed into him, causing him to lose nearly all of his composure. He could no longer control himself. Sasuke couldn't find it in himself to walk out of the room before he could do something unforgivably dangerous and lethally irreversible.

Without much thought or logic, a swift movement landed him on top of his sleeping, partially-covered brother. Obsidian eyes watched intently at the lidded ones beneath him, breathing quietly and nervously at the way Itachi's formidable warmth encased the bottom end of his body.

It all felt so right. It all felt so real. Now if he could only just..

Enamored, and entirely seduced, Sasuke leaned down towards the toned chest of his brother's, slowly tracing a wet, lithe tongue against the milky skin of the other. The feeling was debilitating, sending Sasuke into a haze of bottomless desire and arousal.

Itachi felt so warm against him. Itachi looked so beautiful.

A hot tongue seared wet, slick trails against the expanse of that consummate chest, a hardening quickly taking place between Sasuke's legs. The growing erection brushed lightly against Itachi's stomach, sending sultry chills throughout Sasuke's warming, heating figure.

The raven's ravenous hunger for his older brother was rabid and fierce.

All of those years. All of those torturous, hellish years of having contained all of this torrid desire.. He couldn't do it anymore. Sasuke couldn't bare it.

Unkonwingly, Sasuke had made the lethal mistake of abruptly retreating from his licentious caressing, causing a pair of piercing, vermillion eyes to slowly begin to open.

Coal orbs stared bloody horror, completely frozen in place. Itachi had awoken. Itachi had** seen** him.

A flushed, bubblegum mouth parted in incurable distress, unable to pull himself away that very moment.

Sasuke was on Itachi. Sasuke was _straddling_ Itachi. Very obvious streams of saliva ordanated a naked chest, certainly not left unnoticed by the eldest.

Cherry eyes were now fully opened, staring right into the terrified, jetink orbs of his little brother's. A completely blank expression graced marked, handsome features.

"Otouto.."

**oOo**

**Oh shett~ o: haha Two more parts to this babe! If you want them fast updates, send love my way. ;D hehe~**

**Excuse my continuous rhyming of words.. I tend to do that too much. o-o FORGIVE ME~ Thanks so much for reading! Feedback? Until next time. xx**


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